


Ashes

by sawbones



Series: show your dog the whip [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: D/s, Dominant Hux, Human Ashtray, Human Furniture, Light BDSM, Light Sadism, M/M, Oral Sex, Smoking, Submissive Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 21:38:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6130897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux likes to relax at the end of the day with a cigarette and a glass of brandy. Ren needs something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely inspired by this [beautiful piece](http://kylostahp.tumblr.com/post/137590260717/tell-me-lord-ren-what-use-is-power-if-all-one) from [kylostahp](http://kylostahp.tumblr.com/), and these [beautiful](http://jakkutrashheap.tumblr.com/post/139092419882/stay) [pieces](http://jakkutrashheap.tumblr.com/post/139269107327/tabletop) from [jakkutrashheap](http://jakkutrashheap.tumblr.com). 
> 
> I'd also like to sincerely thank [becausenobreeches](http://becausenobreeches.tumblr.com/) and [gooberfiend](http://gooberfiend.tumblr.com) for the beta! I've never written anything for the SW universe before so I was a little nervous. Critique and comments welcome.

It was the end of a day just as long and tiresome as any other at the helm of the Finalizer, and Hux did what he always did after such a day; as soon as the door to his quarters slid shut behind him, he began to undress. He unbuckled his belt as he slowly crossed the room, dropping it over the back of one of two chairs nested around a small table; his jacket followed suit, and then his tie. He loosened the top few buttons of his stiffly starched shirt, opened the cuffs and carefully rolled the sleeves to his elbows. Already he was starting to feel a little more human, found it a little easier to breathe as he picked apart his own inscrutable veneer and packed it all away for tomorrow.

Now barefoot and somewhat more comfortable, Hux poured himself a generous measure of brandy, plucked a cigarette from the silver box on the table, picked up his data pad and settled into one of his chairs to catch up on the galactic news. He took a deep drag on the cigarette as he scrolled through some sensationalist piece about Outer Rim smugglers and savoured the hot, acrid sting in his throat, feeling the tension headache lurking behind his eyes already start to untwist itself. It was nice to simply switch off, even if it was only for half an hour or so – there was always more work to be done of course, reports to be read, reports to be written, a thousand and one emails to be sifted through for anything actually worth the time it would take to read them. Hux always found it all went so much _easier_ after a glass or two of brandy. He took another drag and went to tap the ash into the shallow ashtray he kept beside the silver box, only to realise he must have left it in the bathroom the last time he had washed it out. He exhaled through his nose in mild irritation.

“Come here,” he said, addressing for the first time the other man in the room.

Kylo Ren - the Supreme Leader’s chosen apprentice, gifted acolyte of the Dark Side, and in Hux’s humble opinion, occasional overgrown ‘sabre-swinging toddler – was knelt facing the wall by Hux’s bed, his hands clasped behind his head, wearing nothing but last week’s bruises and a twist of cloth that served as a gag. He twitched at being addressed so suddenly, but didn’t need to be told twice; he shuffled forward on his hands and knees since he hadn’t been given permission to rise to his feet, and waited by Hux’s side for further instructions with his gaze averted.

From the way his shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly Hux knew that Ren hadn’t moved from the stress position he’d been put in since he’d been left alone hours ago, even though he had been unbound and unsupervised. It had surprised him the first few times they had done this, back when neither of them seemed entirely sure what they were doing or what they expected to gain from the whole ordeal, but Ren responded quite beautifully to some firm discipline. He was a conflicted man, and the fear of losing control - the fear of failure - drove his rages and his tantrums; simply _removing_ control and the responsibility that came with it was enough to relax him, if only for a little while.

Apparently this sort of degeneracy was common among those in high power or high pressure positions, or so Hux had discovered when he’d done a little personal investigating of his own; he honestly couldn’t say it appealed to him. Well, to be on the receiving end of it. He didn’t mind wielding the whip now and again, and honestly was quite grateful for the occasional chance to deliver a swift backhand to that pale, sullen face (particularly after receiving yet another note of payment for console repairs).

“Hold out your hand,” he said, barely glancing up from his datapad. There was the tiniest hesitation from Kylo – they hadn’t done this before, and Hux knew he didn’t like unplanned surprises.  “Hold out your hand or I’ll take off that gag and use your mouth.”

Ren offered up his hand, long fingers cupped to catch the ash that was then neatly tapped onto his palm – it seemed he knew there would be hell to pay if a single flake reached the floor. Hux made a small noise of approval, the closest thing Ren would get to praise for the bare minimum of obedience, though it appeared to be enough for him if the first hints of a blush creeping into his cheeks were anything to go by. He took another sip of his brandy and went back to reading his trashy tabloids as though it was the most normal thing in the universe to have a Knight of Ren on his knees beside him, waiting for that cigarette to be stubbed out on his palm. Hux could see him glance up every few seconds, watching the glowing cherry of the cigarette eat it up, preparing himself for the pain. Hux considered getting up and putting it out in the real ashtray still left in the bathroom, but that half-second of hesitation was a discretion that couldn’t go unpunished. It seemed cruel and perhaps it was, but it was crueller still to let doubt creep into Ren, to let him hold on to some tiny grain of control when all he had to do was _let go_.

Dogs were happier when they knew their place, Hux thought as he took a final lingering draw, even if it meant you had to whip them now and again. He let the smoke curl from his parted lips and leaned forward, blowing the last few wisps in Ren’s face as he crushed the cigarette against his palm, searing a neat little circle in his flesh. The slight flair of his nostrils was the only sign of discomfort from the man, and he closed his hand into a tight fist.

“Go,” Hux said dismissively as he sat back in his chair, picking up his glass again. He indicated Ren could stand with a twitch of his fingers, “Wash.”

Ren unfolded himself gracelessly, his legs clearly stiff from his prolonged kneeling position, and disappeared into the small bathroom; there was the sound of running water and a minute later he reappeared carrying the real ashtray. At Hux’s beckon, he returned to his kneeling position by his side and sat the little glass bowl on the table where it belonged. Another small gesture and he shuffled closer so the General could untie his gag; he used it to wipe the spittle from Ren’s chin and lips from where he’d drooled a little. He was nearly gentle in his ministrations since the corners of his mouth looked a little aggravated from the fabric, and Ren’s black eyes stared up at him as fathomless and unreadable as always.

“Did you really stay in that position since I left this afternoon?” Hux asked, pretending to be quite thorough in dabbing away. He already knew the answer from his earlier observation, and Ren likely knew that he knew, but he nodded anyway.

“—“ he opened his mouth to respond, but his voice was scratchy from lack of use. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Yes. All day.”

“Obedient,” Hux said. It was indirect praise, his tone vaguely impressed, but the effect was roughly the same as blatantly calling Ren a good boy and scratching his belly, “You must ache.”

There was no response this time beyond a shallow nod. He imagined Ren wanted to say something boastful, like how it was nothing compared to his training, how he could endure so much worse. Ren also knew such brazenness would see an open-handed slap, or see him swiftly kicked out of Hux’s quarters depending on the General’s mood, and so was wise to keep his mouth shut. Kylo Ren was to leave his ego at the door if he wanted the treatment he craved; in those four walls, he had to accept he surmounted to little more than a glorified foot stool.

He could only imagine the carnage if he ever tried to enforce that idea in public. How many little pieces could a man be diced into?

Hux made another wordless noise of affirmation, and guided Ren’s head to rest against his knee so he could idly thread his fingers through his mop of black hair while he read. The knight’s shoulders stiffened a little at the soft touch but he offered no resistance – any sign of affection or intimacy had the same effect on him, like he didn’t quite trust it and he certainly didn’t know what to do with it. It had taken him months to stop crying every time they fucked, much to both of their great embarrassment (because nothing quite killed Hux’s mood like having to cradle a grown man sobbing like a child when said man was seven inches deep at the time).

Still, it couldn’t be all stick and no carrot. For a start Hux simply didn’t have the energy; it took a lot of effort to keep Ren in hand on top of the multitude of _actual_ duties he had (he tried not to think of whatever this was as work, even if it was for the benefit of his ship and his men as much as for himself or Ren), and sometimes it was just easier to have him like this – on his knees, pliable, calm – than it was to truss him up and tear him apart. He kept those sessions for when he had a few issues of his own to work through. Besides, there was something to be said for their more quiet moments together. He imagined this was how taming a wild beast would feel, having seen teeth of Ren’s rage rip men to pieces and knowing the same could quite easily happen to himself. Maybe he was a fool, but that didn’t scare him as much as it should.

Hux drained what was left in his glass and sat it aside; when his hand returned to Ren’s head, he let his fingertips brush against the shell of his ear, down to his cheek. Ren turned his head, leaning into the touch a little; his hands, which had been folded loosely in his lap, curled around Hux’s thin bare ankle. They were warm and dry, a little calloused from his intensive training, and his grip was light as though he wasn’t wholly certain he was permitted to touch him yet.  Hux didn’t stop him, though he did lower his datapad to watch as the knight practically _nuzzled_ against his thigh. If he thought Ren’s inexperience with affection was pathetic then he supposed that made two of them, since he was never really sure what to do on the odd occasions the little scraps he fed him were returned.

It was nice enough, he thought to himself as emboldened fingers crept up his calf to his thigh; enjoyable, almost. He sat the datapad on the table beside his empty glass, causing Ren to glance up at him and his touch to still as he waited for Hux’s reaction, evidently unsure when he was going to be punished or permitted to continue. Of course he could simply dip into his mind to see, were that sort of Force nonsense not strictly forbidden in that room.

“Come here,” Hux said, his voice harder than he intended it to be if the fleeting look of guilt on Ren’s face was anything to go by. The taller man sat up straighter, pushing himself between the General’s parted legs, palms braced on his thighs. Hux took his face in a single hand, held his jaw in a loose grip; he brushed his thumb across the swell of Ren’s lips, bitten and chapped but as shapely as ever, even pressed tightly together as they were. Each of Ren’s features were quite lovely when considered on their own – plush lips, a bold nose, his deep brown eyes - but together they gave the impression of a man made by someone who’d only heard a loose description of what a human looked like. It was sort of charming in its own way. Hux considered kissing him then; he could see Ren becoming a little agitated at being left hanging while he was examined, and tightened the fingers on his jaw to try and deflect from the fact he’d been staring at his lips.

“I want your mouth tonight,” he said finally, releasing him with a small push. If Ren was disappointed, he didn’t let it show; he sat back on his heels again, his hands moving up Hux’s thighs to the fly of his jodhpurs. He opened the button and zip with sure, steady movements, coaxing the fabric down the General’s narrow hips – he kept his head bowed close to Hux’s chest like he sought to hide his ministrations as he pulled him free from his briefs, flesh hot and heavy in his injured palm. He stroked him a few times, coaxing him into full hardness but Hux took him by the back of the neck, fingers twisting in the hairs there hard enough to border on painful, “Your mouth, Ren. Not your hands.”

That brought an uncharacteristic flush to the knight’s sallow cheeks, as though despite all circumstances _that_ was just too lewd. He laid his hands back on Hux’s thighs and drew his cock into his mouth unguided; as soon as his lips touched skin a soft sound like a sigh of relief or perhaps a smothered moan escaped him unbidden. Whatever it was, it was enough to make Hux smile for the first time in what felt like days; here knelt the Master of the Knights of Ren, naked, cowed, _whimpering_ with want at the first taste of his cock.

Ren took as much of his cock into his mouth as possible all at once, as though he was trying to prove himself. There was a hint of too much teeth that set Hux’s own on edge but he couldn’t help the way his breath caught in his throat like a gasp shot dead. It seemed he sucked cock the way he did anything else in life: with a lack of finesse but no small measure of _boldness_ to make up for it, like he’d been just waiting for the chance – not entirely farfetched, considering how long he’d been left kneeling in front of a blank wall waiting for the General to come back. Hux liked that image quite a lot, one of Ren achingly hard, desperate to reach out across the ship and coax him home but not daring.

Hux tugged on Ren’s hair and he reluctantly pulled off, his eyes closed with a frown and spittle on his lips; he was struggling to control his breathing and his face was red enough that he looked as though he’d been slapped. Hux wondered what might happen if he did slap him at that moment, as he pushed the head of his cock against Ren’s slick lips, smearing them with precum – would Ren gasp or moan? Would his eyes water? Would he grit his teeth as he kissed Hux’s hot flesh and let the hand in his hair show him what to do? The General dug his fingertips into the hinge of Ren’s jaw, forcing his mouth open wide again before he unceremoniously shoved back in, controlling the depth on his own terms this time. Ren made a noise that bordered on panic as he suddenly couldn’t breathe, his hands curling against Hux’s thighs, but didn’t struggle; tears began to clump his thick lashes as his gag reflex was tested with each deep, careless thrust.

A short time later and Hux had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from saying something stupid as he held a writhing Ren flush to his pelvis and came directly down his throat. As soon as he was let go, Ren sat back on his heels, panting and trying not to cough. He let his head rest against Hux’s knee, his sweat-damp hair half hiding his face – not that Hux was actually looking, but he could feel it with his eyes closed and his head tipped back against his chair. Whether it was a Force thing or simply a Ren thing, the need rolling off him in waves was almost palpable; it felt like an itch just below his skin that he would never be able to scratch. He jerked his leg away from Ren’s touch and sat up a little straighter again.

“That will be all for tonight,” he said, still avoiding looking at the kneeling man as he tucked himself back into his jodhpurs and reached for the silver cigarette box again. There was the slightest tremor in his hand, and he knew Ren would notice; it brought back that desire to slap him.

“Hux—“ Ren began, then stopped because even then he’d rather clench his teeth hard enough to shatter them than say please. He looked hurt as he pushed back his hair and blinked hard at the General, presumably wrestling with another temper flair. He had to _learn_.

“Don’t make me say it twice,” Hux said, keeping his voice soft. He crossed his legs, forcing Ren to move back. He gestured at the door with his cigarette, “You’re done. Take your clothes, and get out of my quarters.”

There was a moment’s silence as Ren closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, it was as though a spell had been lifted. He hadn’t moved an inch but somehow his whole demeanour had changed. He stood up in a single fluid motion that nearly made Hux flinch.

“Very well, General,” he said in a cool, clenched tone that suggested he would remember this particular slight. Hux had no doubt he would, and the next few days on the bridge were going to be even more insufferable than usual, until the next time Ren came to him on his knees, head bowed, eyes downcast, twice as desperate to prove himself after this apparent failure.

Hux watched with a sort of detached interested as the knight –still hard—pieced together his ungainly robes, finishing with his helmet that had its own space on one of his shelves. There was no courtesy farewell or gesture as he left, just the gentle hiss of the door opening and closing.

Until next time, Hux thought to himself again as he tapped ash into the little glass bowl Ren had brought him. No matter what he did, there would always be a next time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm toying with the idea of a sequel, perhaps with 'harder' BDSM. Would that interest anyone?


End file.
